Last Day in Addis
Michelle wants to leave work early today so she can pack for her three-week trip. She asks me to wait to go to the hospital until she’s off work. That will allow her some quiet time at home to pack without my intrusion. I’m a little depressed because I imagined the minute we got to the office today, the driver would take me on to the hospital. But I can wait a few more hours.
Getnesh, a lively and lovely co-worker of Michelle’s who handles the finances for RaDO, makes a phone call to the guy who maintains RaDO’s website. His name is Ramseret and he is so nice, asking for feedback on his web design. Ramseret is paralyzed from the waist down, which is why he wants to be RaDO’s webmaster. After discussing possible changes and suggestions with Ramseret, it’s time for lunch.
Getnesh insists on taking Michelle to lunch since Michelle is going to be gone for three weeks. Getnesh chooses a traditional Ethiopian restaurant at the Lalibela Hotel around the corner from RaDO’ office. The furnishings are authentic Ethiopian with handcarved chairs and wooden, carved pictures on the walls. The table is a large woven basket. When the lid is removed, a gorgeous, wood table top is exposed. A metal tray, the size of the tabletop, sits on the wood surface and is filled with food. The baskets are handwoven by women and they incorporate bright colors into the weave. The shape is distinctive, getting larger in the middle and coming to a point at the top. Many people use these basket/tables in their homes. When the top is on the table, fitted crocheted covers, the exact shape of the basket, are placed over the basket, acting as decorative dust collectors. They make beautiful, functional additions to any home. Unfortunately, we do not have time for the coffee ceremony, a ritual revered by Ethiopians.
Getnesh orders for us and the food is served from a multi-tiered "tree" hung with many small containers. The large table top is covered with a giant Injera, about 2 feet in diameter, and the waitress spoons out the various meat and bean-based dishes on the Injera. Ethiopian food is quite spicy so I taste for the lumps of food with the least spices. It’s a beautiful meal, but I still do not have an appetite. And because I’ve been nauseous for days, I’m beginning to associate Injera and the meat sauces with nausea. And it’s truly unfair because Injera and the sauces that go with it are tasty and healthful. I’m still not feeling well and while it’s a great meal with truly warm people, all I can think about is getting to the hospital. Soon.
Thomas, a RaDO driver, drops me at St. Gabriel’s. I’ll walk to Michelle’s when I leave. Just like the first visit, they move me through the process relatively quickly and soon I’m facing a new doctor, one who asks a lot of questions but doesn’t give me time to answer. At least he looks into my sinuses and ears (do you notice hearing lose in your left ear? He asks) and agrees I need antibiotics!!! I want to do a jig of joy but haven’t the energy. So I grab the medicine from the pharmacy and call Michelle. We arrange to meet in one hour at a college. She has drawn me a map on a sticky note. The walk takes only 15 minutes but I want a little extra time to look for authentic Ethiopian shawls in the shops along the way.
It’s nearing the end of the rainy season, so I carry Michelle’s rather long umbrella, using it as a walking stick. I’m feeling tired and weak. I don’t walk quickly. Just stroll. I have the sticky note with drawn map in my left hand. As I stroll, I pass masses of marked goats, being tended and kept motionless by men of all ages. There are men with cars the size of shopping carts, giving driving instruction and they playfully call me over, offering to teach me to drive. I keep strolling. A homeless guy who mumbles to himself walks next to me. Some people know him and speak, others turn away from him. As small children come out to beg from me, I don’t increase my pace. Just look at them. Eventually the mumbling man will tell them to leave me and they do.
As I near what looks like the college, a very tall man comes up behind me and speaks to me in Amharic, though he appears to be enjoying some pre-New Year’s libations. He also appears to be mentally unstable. He is talking to me and I look at him as I continue to walk slowly with my umbrella walking stick.
The man is very tall and bigger than most Ethiopians. He’s also making noises that do not sound like any language. His skin is light brown, as are his eyes, and he has them locked on me as I search the street for the college. When I don’t pay him any attention, he grabs my left wrist and tries to read the sticky note. His grip is strong and I don’t pull away or yell, for fear he’ll react irrationally. I keep moving with him at my side, holding my wrist and making strange noises. People on both sides of the street are looking. Then the grabs my arm above my elbow and pulls me so I turn toward him. I resist and keep moving down the street. He pulls me again. Suddenly from five different directions, five men step onto the sidewalk at the same time, placing themselves between the man and me. There is yelling and gestures. The man doesn't retreat right away but I am very grateful to the men who have intervened and am sure it shows on my face. It’s probably good that I am sick and not myself, that I don’t resist or fight back, because the guy is unpredicatable.
Each man who stepped in on my behalf is extremely apologetic. They make the man move away from me and two of the men insist on walking me to the college. They confirm he has been drinking and is crazy. These men did not have to step in and I’m very grateful they did!
Michelle meets me at the college and we walk back to her place, down the side streets flooded with rainy season showers. We step on rocks and dodge mud all the way. Michelle is packed, sort of. We go through her clothes, choosing the best ones for Kilimanjaro, where the temperature can be close to zero degrees fahrenheit. She has lots and lots of stuff, but only two backpacks as luggage, so we unpack and then pack again so everything fits.
We are ready for our flight to Nairobi, where we’ll have a layover for the flight to Zanzibar. But our flight doesn’t leave until 2:50am. We walk from Michelle’s place to a hotel just across the expressway from the airport. It’s 10:00pm. We eat dinner and chat and then, at Midnight, start crossing the highway and walking the mile or so to the airport. Michelle and others tell me Addis is safe. Women can walk alone any time of the night or day. We have no trouble whatsoever as we walk about town after Midnight.
That’s certainly not the case in Kisumu where everyone is in their homes by 8:00pm.
Getnesh, a lively and lovely co-worker of Michelle’s who handles the finances for RaDO, makes a phone call to the guy who maintains RaDO’s website. His name is Ramseret and he is so nice, asking for feedback on his web design. Ramseret is paralyzed from the waist down, which is why he wants to be RaDO’s webmaster. After discussing possible changes and suggestions with Ramseret, it’s time for lunch.
Getnesh insists on taking Michelle to lunch since Michelle is going to be gone for three weeks. Getnesh chooses a traditional Ethiopian restaurant at the Lalibela Hotel around the corner from RaDO’ office. The furnishings are authentic Ethiopian with handcarved chairs and wooden, carved pictures on the walls. The table is a large woven basket. When the lid is removed, a gorgeous, wood table top is exposed. A metal tray, the size of the tabletop, sits on the wood surface and is filled with food. The baskets are handwoven by women and they incorporate bright colors into the weave. The shape is distinctive, getting larger in the middle and coming to a point at the top. Many people use these basket/tables in their homes. When the top is on the table, fitted crocheted covers, the exact shape of the basket, are placed over the basket, acting as decorative dust collectors. They make beautiful, functional additions to any home. Unfortunately, we do not have time for the coffee ceremony, a ritual revered by Ethiopians.
Getnesh orders for us and the food is served from a multi-tiered "tree" hung with many small containers. The large table top is covered with a giant Injera, about 2 feet in diameter, and the waitress spoons out the various meat and bean-based dishes on the Injera. Ethiopian food is quite spicy so I taste for the lumps of food with the least spices. It’s a beautiful meal, but I still do not have an appetite. And because I’ve been nauseous for days, I’m beginning to associate Injera and the meat sauces with nausea. And it’s truly unfair because Injera and the sauces that go with it are tasty and healthful. I’m still not feeling well and while it’s a great meal with truly warm people, all I can think about is getting to the hospital. Soon.
Thomas, a RaDO driver, drops me at St. Gabriel’s. I’ll walk to Michelle’s when I leave. Just like the first visit, they move me through the process relatively quickly and soon I’m facing a new doctor, one who asks a lot of questions but doesn’t give me time to answer. At least he looks into my sinuses and ears (do you notice hearing lose in your left ear? He asks) and agrees I need antibiotics!!! I want to do a jig of joy but haven’t the energy. So I grab the medicine from the pharmacy and call Michelle. We arrange to meet in one hour at a college. She has drawn me a map on a sticky note. The walk takes only 15 minutes but I want a little extra time to look for authentic Ethiopian shawls in the shops along the way.
It’s nearing the end of the rainy season, so I carry Michelle’s rather long umbrella, using it as a walking stick. I’m feeling tired and weak. I don’t walk quickly. Just stroll. I have the sticky note with drawn map in my left hand. As I stroll, I pass masses of marked goats, being tended and kept motionless by men of all ages. There are men with cars the size of shopping carts, giving driving instruction and they playfully call me over, offering to teach me to drive. I keep strolling. A homeless guy who mumbles to himself walks next to me. Some people know him and speak, others turn away from him. As small children come out to beg from me, I don’t increase my pace. Just look at them. Eventually the mumbling man will tell them to leave me and they do.
As I near what looks like the college, a very tall man comes up behind me and speaks to me in Amharic, though he appears to be enjoying some pre-New Year’s libations. He also appears to be mentally unstable. He is talking to me and I look at him as I continue to walk slowly with my umbrella walking stick.
The man is very tall and bigger than most Ethiopians. He’s also making noises that do not sound like any language. His skin is light brown, as are his eyes, and he has them locked on me as I search the street for the college. When I don’t pay him any attention, he grabs my left wrist and tries to read the sticky note. His grip is strong and I don’t pull away or yell, for fear he’ll react irrationally. I keep moving with him at my side, holding my wrist and making strange noises. People on both sides of the street are looking. Then the grabs my arm above my elbow and pulls me so I turn toward him. I resist and keep moving down the street. He pulls me again. Suddenly from five different directions, five men step onto the sidewalk at the same time, placing themselves between the man and me. There is yelling and gestures. The man doesn't retreat right away but I am very grateful to the men who have intervened and am sure it shows on my face. It’s probably good that I am sick and not myself, that I don’t resist or fight back, because the guy is unpredicatable.
Each man who stepped in on my behalf is extremely apologetic. They make the man move away from me and two of the men insist on walking me to the college. They confirm he has been drinking and is crazy. These men did not have to step in and I’m very grateful they did!
Michelle meets me at the college and we walk back to her place, down the side streets flooded with rainy season showers. We step on rocks and dodge mud all the way. Michelle is packed, sort of. We go through her clothes, choosing the best ones for Kilimanjaro, where the temperature can be close to zero degrees fahrenheit. She has lots and lots of stuff, but only two backpacks as luggage, so we unpack and then pack again so everything fits.
We are ready for our flight to Nairobi, where we’ll have a layover for the flight to Zanzibar. But our flight doesn’t leave until 2:50am. We walk from Michelle’s place to a hotel just across the expressway from the airport. It’s 10:00pm. We eat dinner and chat and then, at Midnight, start crossing the highway and walking the mile or so to the airport. Michelle and others tell me Addis is safe. Women can walk alone any time of the night or day. We have no trouble whatsoever as we walk about town after Midnight.
That’s certainly not the case in Kisumu where everyone is in their homes by 8:00pm.
posted by Cindi at 5:14 AM
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